


Kentucky

by loveinadoorway



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-28
Updated: 2011-07-28
Packaged: 2017-10-21 21:30:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/230055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveinadoorway/pseuds/loveinadoorway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Disclaimer: Seriously not mine, never mine, not even for a heartbeat.<br/>Rating: PG<br/>Genre: slash<br/>Word Count: ~1277<br/>Characters/Pairings: Dean/Cas<br/>Warnings: a little language, a master bedroom and the prospect of a happily ever after<br/>Summary: It all started with a drabble</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kentucky

**A real dead ringer for love**

Dean was playing with his ring.  
That meant, Castiel had learned, that his human was emotionally distressed.  
Cas tilted his head and asked: “What is wrong, Dean?”  
“Nothing.”  
Another thing Castiel had learned about his human was that it was never ‘nothing’, so he kept pressing until Dean finally caved in.  
“What’s going to happen after we’ve stopped the Apocalypse?”  
“Life… goes on,” said Cas in his most gravelly voice, not comprehending at all what Dean was driving at.  
“No. To us, Cas.”  
“I don’t know. I have always been partial to Kentucky. How do you feel about breeding horses?”

Now the apocalypse was over and one somehow had to make good on one’s promises. Even if they were given at a time when one thought one wasn’t going to live through this shit in the first place.  
Maybe even especially when one had thought one wouldn’t live through any of this shit in the first place.  
But there you were… a new dawn that nobody in the know ever expected to see.

**Postapocalyptica**

No matter what he had said or done right before the proverbial shit hit the proverbial fence, Dean hadn’t EVER expected to live through this.  
Not for a second.  
He had had scenarios run through his brain for when he died and Cas survived, for when they both died and Sam tried for a helpless eulogy or on a bad day even for when Cas died and he survived to carry on with his life, but in actual fact he had nothing to prepare him for coming out of this shit alive and with Cas at his side to boot.  
Everything, just simply everything reeked of a happy ending.  
And Dean Winchester, fucking boy wonder of the apocalypse, wasn’t having any of this. Something would go wrong, something always went wrong.

So when Cas said they were going to move to Kentucky, to a horse breeding place like they had discussed, Dean just nodded and put the Impala’s automatic gear shift to drive, plotted a course to Kentucky and decided he’d deal with the consequences when they arose.  
Now… they had arisen.  
There was a real destination behind the general instructions Cas had given. There was an actual stud farm waiting for them. A place that, for some weird reason Dean didn’t want to dwell on, was theirs all of a sudden.  
A home.  
He remembered home. It was a certain house in Kansas and more than a place, it had been a feeling. A feeling of being safe, loved and happy.

Dean parked the Impala.  
He was not impressed with what he had seen on the drive to the farm and that didn’t change as he stepped out of the car and ended up ankle-deep in mud.  
The steady drizzle of rain didn’t exactly help, either.  
The building loomed dark and forbidding behind a large Maple tree and somewhere, a door or window was creaking on its hinges in the wind.  
He was utterly terrified.  
It would have helped if Cas were displaying signs of nervousness.  
“You sure this is it?” he asked and for the umptieth time wished he hadn’t shacked up with Mr. Stoic.  
Castiel’s expression once more gave nothing away as he strode purposefully towards the house, trench coat tails flapping behind him.

Dean sighed and followed him, picking his way gingerly around the puddles.  
He was bone weary and not in the mood for putting up much resistance.  
The angel wanted, the angel got.  
Period.  
Simple as that.  
And if his angel wanted to live in Kentucky and breed horses, well, Dean was just going to have to learn how to breed fucking horses.  
He snorted a laugh. Fucking horses actually would breed themselves, wouldn’t they?  
So what if the house looked like it belonged on the cover of “Demon Hunter’s Weekly”, if such a publication would exist, that is.  
The angel wanted, the angel got.  
And Dean couldn’t do a thing about that.  
So they’d be stuck in a fucking sea of fucking bluegrass.  
Hell, if things got too boring, Dean thought, he could always learn to play the banjo. Payback was only fair. Okay, payback was also a bitch and a half, if a musical instrument and a player with zero talent was involved.

Castiel unlocked the door and stepped gingerly inside, feeling both excited and apprehensive.  
He wished he could still listen in on Dean’s thoughts. He had never been this uncertain in his entire existence.  
Was this what Dean wanted?  
He missed his ‘mojo’ in more than one way, he thought, as he surveyed the dark room and saw exactly squat.  
Dean stomped in after him and hit the light switch.  
Oh, yes, conveniently placed next to the door. He should have known.  
Humans had found amazing ways to compensate for their shortcomings.  
“Home, sweet home,” growled Dean, obviously still not impressed in the least.

The spacious living room was furnished nicely, if a bit conservatively and for a fleeting moment Castiel was worried that staying in all those atrocious motels for all those years might have seriously damaged Dean’s perception and expectation. Maybe the human needed something like cabbage-sized maroon flowers on a purple and beige striped background on the walls to be able to appreciate a room.  
Cas wasn’t sure if there was enough serenity in the entire universe to live inside such a room, but if Dean needed it to feel comfortable, he would find a way to live with it.  
Dean wanted, Dean got.  
Period.  
Simple as that.  
He couldn’t ever deny Dean anything. It was simply not possible.

Cas sighed.  
“What now?” Dean asked immediately.  
“I think the living room looks very nice and the sofa seems to be very comfortable.”  
“I’ll reserve judgment until I’ve seen it all,” said Dean drily.  
Castiel’s face fell and Dean thought he should maybe be a bit more… a bit less…  
He nodded at the armchair in front of the fireplace and said: “That’s not looking half bad.”  
Cas nodded, glad that Dean seemed to have found something to his liking at last.  
They walked into the kitchen, also spacious and with a big dinner table and six chairs to boot.

Dean opened the fridge. The previous owner hadn’t lied when he had said he’d stock the fridge to welcome them to their new home.  
And, Dean noted with a small, grateful huff of breath, he thankfully wasn’t a teetotaler.  
There was beer.  
Yahtzee.  
He felt inclined to be much more magnanimous about the whole setup as he grabbed a bottle, opened it and took a long swig.  
Castiel had already ambled off upstairs, presumably checking out bath and bedroom.  
Well, he’d slept in places much, much worse than this and only rarely, if ever, in better. It was nice, it was clean and decorated tastefully in muted colors.  
If he never saw another horrid stuck-in-the-seventies wallpaper for the rest of his life, he’d die a happy man.

He bounded up the stairs and found Cas in the master bedroom, staring intently at the bed. The bed they would be sleeping in.  
He walked up to Castiel and put his hand on the small of the other man’s back.  
The fallen angel turned his head to look the reason of his fall in the eye.  
Dean was smiling.  
“I like this place, Cas. Do you?”  
“Yes.”  
“Good. Then all we need is new clothes for you. Can’t breed horses in a suit, you know.”  
Castiel smiled back at Dean and suddenly the prospect of spending the rest of their lives in this house stopped being terrifying.


End file.
